Sex, Love and Honesty Series
by Edgechick816
Summary: Various looks into the Divas realtionships
1. Freedom

Title: Freedom  
  
Series: Sex, Love and Honesty  
  
Author: Rachel  
  
Email: Edgechick816@aol.com  
  
Category: WWE  
  
Disclaimer: Everyone belongs to the WWE and themselves  
  
Distribution: Ask please  
  
Rating: PG13 (parts will vary)  
  
Spoilers: Set in October/November 2003  
  
Notes: First part in a diva series  
  
Notes 2: Each part will be about a different Diva from their POV, as such, each part will be posted to the appropriate list(s)  
  
Summary: A diva leaves her a part of her life behind.  
  
Feedback: Is loved and much appreciated :)  
  
You are the reason I am the way I am, and I hate you for it. Funny to think about how you came in and swept me off my feet. I was the queen of your world, or at least it was that way for a while. I lived the fantasy life. You lavished me constantly with flowers and little surprised dinners out, romancing me with the best of them. I should have known something was up back then, but I was too caught up in how perfect you were, because that's what you seemed to be, everything I ever wanted in a boyfriend, a girl's dream, you knew that didn't you? You knew how to feed my hopes and fantasies and used them against me. Your plan so perfectly thought out I would have seen it, if I hadn't been so in love with you.   
  
You said you loved me too, and I believed it, but then things started to change. The flowers stopped coming, the dinners out became few and far between. Those are things someone expects to fade away, but wasn't expected to fade was you. You became hard and unfeeling, controlling even. It was your way or the highway, and like a lovefool, I played along, just like you knew I would. If I didn't, you would get angry and yell, I didn't want that, back when I cared about how you felt, for the record; I don't anymore.   
  
All I wanted was a fucking say, whether it was about where we ordered take out from, or what sexual position we used, I just wanted my opinion to be heard, but you couldn't give me that, so I snapped. The first thing to go was that blonde hair you loved so much, you said it made me look sweet and innocent, so I dyed it brown and told management to deal with it, and they did, by putting me in heel angle. I really have to thank them for that, it helped me take out some of the aggression I was feeling, and served to piss you off even more.  
  
Then come the roster spilt, we should have ended it right there, but you had to say the words that all people say when trying to save a relationship that's already dead: Let move in together. You persuaded me to do it with your lies of trying to improve and how things would get better, it only got worse.  
  
Not being on the same show meant you could flirt with other women whenever you felt like it. I realized then that you never loved me, it was just settling for you. You always wanted Trish, or Lita, or Dawn, but you couldn't have the girl you wanted, so you kept me around. I know you hit on Dawn on a weekly basis, I'm glad she has the sense to turn you down, and because she does, you come back to me, the fat girl who couldn't get another date if she tried, that is what you think, isn't it? Am I right? It doesn't matter anymore. If being with you saved one of them from going through what I'm going through, then the last three years of my life weren't a total waste. I take comfort in that.   
  
Now, I'm done with you, my bags are packed and I'll be gone before you get home. It saves your breath and my time; you've wasted enough of my time already. I don't want you to talk me into staying, my mind's made up and there is no point in trying to change it. I've taken everything worth remembering about this shit relationship, the rest I've either broken or left for you to deal with.  
  
I hear the truck honking its horn, signalling that all my stuff has been loaded on. I take my house key off my keychain and place it on the table next to the note I've left you. Maybe I shouldn't hate you for making me this way; I'm smarter and stronger because of you. I have to right to love and be loved, I know this now and I won't take anything less. So maybe, in some sick way, you've helped me.   
  
I take one last look around the room, my eyes falling on a picture of us from our first anniversary, right when things started to go bad. I walk over to it and pick it, reading the scripture on it. With a roll of my eyes I let it fall the ground, the sound of the glass shattering the most satisfying sound I've heard in longest time. Walking out the door I smile, maybe my first real smile in two years.   
  
I shut the door behind me as I leave the house, finally able to close the book on this chapter of my life. Before I get into my car I look back at the house, my hell, for the final time. I lost the man I loved in there, and I lost a bit of myself as well, but now is my journey to rebuild what is missing and be better for it. I shake my head as I climb into my car.   
  
"Matt Hardy and Molly Holly forever? What a fucking joke."  
  
A/N: My first try at first person writing, let me know what you think. 


	2. Lost

Title: Lost  
  
Series: Sex, Love and Honesty  
  
Author: Rachel  
  
Email: Edgechick816@aol.com  
  
Category: WWE  
  
Disclaimer: Everyone belongs to the WWE and themselves  
  
Distribution: Ask please  
  
Rating: PG13 (parts will vary)  
  
Spoilers: Set in October/November 2003  
  
Notes: Second part in a diva series  
  
Notes 2: Each part will be about a different Diva from their POV, as such, each installment will be posted to the appropriate lists.  
  
Summary: A diva finds unexpected comfort.  
  
Feedback: Is loved and much appreciated :)  
  
I don't know why he comes, he says he doesn't pity me, but I don't believe him. If it's not pity, then why the hell does he bother? Certainly not for sex, since he's never asked. I don't make a very good friend at this point. So if it's not pity, then what is it? I've told him how I feel, but he still wants to see me anyway. Ever since my storyline with Torrie he's been coming to me, backstage after shows, to my hotel with ice cream. He listens; he'll never make rude comments like the other guys or proposition me week in and week out like Matt Hardy does. I'd never go for Matt, I've seen the way he treats Molly and don't want that for myself, I don't want it for her either.  
  
Torrie thinks she's better than me, partly because she's blonde. Even more because of our past storylines, the ones where she's the prefect little princess and I'm the bitch making her life a living hell. I'd laugh at the thought if it wasn't so sad. Since, after all, she's the one walking around, making my life miserable. But the main reason is Playboy; the world must love her so much because she got picked to strip for a bunch of teenage boys. I wonder how she'd feel if she knew I got the offer first? I didn't want the job, I have some self-respect, or at least I used to. Nobody even knows about Playboy except him. He says the fact that I didn't take it makes me better than her. Yeah right, like it's so much better being put in bikini matches, or being forced to kiss old men or being dunked in chocolate on international television.  
  
I sigh, stepping back further into the spray of the shower, scrubbing as hard I can in an attempt to wash away this dirty feeling. I don't think I've ever felt as cheap and used as I did tonight. I actually liked the costume, its fun to be a super hero every once and a while. But I didn't like taking my top off and running around covered in candy. Ask Torrie to do that shit, being slutty doesn't bother her, it bothers me. I shut off the water and step out of the shower. Wrapping a big fluffy towel around myself, I walk over to the mirror, checking to make sure all that nasty chocolate is washed off, my finger tips brushing against my face.  
  
He says I'm beautiful. I think the other girls are better looking, he's says I'm wrong. I know he's lying to save face. All men want a Trish or a Torrie, nobody wants just me. Not even Matt, he just tries because he thinks I'm easy. I step away from the glass, going over to my stuff and pulling out some baggy running pants and a long sleeved t-shirt. I don't even feel like wearing jeans, I just wanna cover up, go back to my hotel room and cry. I wanna avoid all the leery looks that I know will be thrown in my direction. Avoid the cat calls from every man on the roster, but I know I won't, so I deal.   
  
As I pull my shirt on I hear a knock at the door. It's him; I know it is, I would have been surprised if he didn't show after what happened tonight.  
  
"Are you decent?" he asks through the door. I snort; he's the only man that would take the trouble of asking me that.  
  
"Does it matter?" I toss back, voicing my annoyance. My tone sounds tired even to me. He must have noticed it too, slowly, he opens the door.  
  
"Dawn," he calls softly, stepping into the room. "are you all right?"  
  
"I'm fine." I say, but we both know it's a lie. I do this every time; he comes in, I pretend like I don't need him and we leave together, it's a dance we go through. Why do I do it if I know the end result is always the same? I'm not entirely sure. Maybe it's asserting what little independence I have left, a tiny bit of self-respect and defiance. A mock shell of the woman I used to be before I let Torrie Wilson destroy me. I miss that woman, she's still inside me though, buried beneath Torrie's words, slut chants and an amazing amount of self-doubt. And right now, I can't break through any of those things. I sigh again, going back to my bag, stuffing the last of my things in it.   
  
"Look I really appreciate what you're trying to do but..." I stop as I realize that he's no longer across the room, but right in front of me, lifting my chin to met his eyes. He kisses my forehead and wipes away the tear I didn't ever realize had fallen.   
  
"Shh, don't cry, Baby Girl." he tells me, wrapping his arms around me. "It'll be okay." He holds me there, he doesn't have to ask how I feel, he already knows. I know he'll comfort me, I know he's going make me smile. And I'm going to let him, something the old Dawn Marie would have never done. She would have never let anyone hold her while she cried or let someone into her emotions, but I'm not her anymore, am I? He still sees the woman the used to be, somewhere inside me, I haven't found my way back to her yet, but now I have John Cena to guide me.   
  
And I don't know what scares me more; the fact that I let him in, or the fact that I don't know what I'd do without him.  
  
A/N: Review and let me know what you think. 


	3. Trust

Title: Trust  
  
Series: Sex, Love and Honesty  
  
Author: Rachel  
  
Email:   
  
Category: WWE  
  
Disclaimer: Everyone belongs to the WWE and themselves  
  
Distribution: Ask please  
  
Rating: PG (parts will vary)  
  
Spoilers: Set in October/November 2003  
  
Notes: Third part in a diva series  
  
Notes 2: Each part will be about a different Diva from their POV, as such, each installment will be posted to the appropriate lists.  
  
Summary: A diva finally finds someone to trust  
  
Feedback: Is loved and much appreciated :)  
  
I think too much. Most people would laugh if I said that to them 'blondes don't think, or if they do it's about hair and makeup.' I wish that was that problem, or more like my non-problem. He says he doesn't mind just sitting in a room with me; I don't know if that means he likes my company or wants me to shut up. I assume the latter because that's what my last boyfriend wanted, but he's not my ex, is he? I have to keep reminding myself of that.  
  
We're sitting together in his locker room, not talking, I'm in a big comfy chair listening to music, he's stretched out on a couch reading a magazine and smiling. I wonder what he's thinking? Probably looking at girl with big breasts, wishing I had big breasts, wishing he was with her instead of me. Don't all men want what they can't have? He has me so he obviously can't want me, he...  
  
Wait...  
  
Stop...   
  
I'm doing it again.  
  
I sigh mentally.   
  
He's in love with me; he tells me every chance he gets. I want to believe him, but love involves trust and trust is something I haven't done very well, especially lately. I hate Test; I hate him for doing this to me, for beating down my self-respect, for demeaning me in front of everyone, for never failing to remind me of how worthless I was. I hate myself even more for allowing it to happen, and for letting it go on as long as it did.  
  
I skip the next song on the CD. I'm still recovering from Test, I second guess every move, every touch, every kiss. Wondering when he's gonna get bored with me and start to treat me like dirt, or worse yet, leave me. But he doesn't and he won't, or at least that's what I'm lead to believe; and I'm starting to.   
  
I look over at him again, just watching him for a minute. He reminds me of how I used to laugh and love; things that were faded, things he's bring back. I smile more with him. I feel my heart sing because he's around. I feel like I can love again. He treats me like an equal, lets me make decisions and doesn't assume that a bottle of hair dye has dropped my I.Q.   
  
He lets me see behind his facade to the sweet, loving man that hides beneath the attitude. He does that for me, just me, because he wants me to know the real him. At the thought my broken heart mends just a bit more. I was so busy thinking that I didn't even notice him move till he was right in front of me. He takes my headphones of my ears and kisses me. I'm always surprised by his kisses, he's gentler than expected, or maybe more gentle than I'm used to— No I'm not going to think about that, not while his lips are on mine. When I'm here, I'm safe from everything but his touch and I'm not afraid of that.  
  
I never was.  
  
The realization shocks me.  
  
He pulls away and I whimper at the loss. He grins, kissing the tip of my nose, then locks his eyes with mine and I'm drowning in pools of baby blue. I know this look, he's trying to figure out what I'm thinking. I don't know if he can tell or not, if he can, he doesn't let me know about it. He leans forward and presses a kiss onto my forehead.  
  
"What's going on in that pretty little head of yours?" He mumbles the question, causing his deep voice to rumble in against my chest. My body tingles at the feeling and I'm almost too distracted to notice. I might be not afraid of him, but I'm afraid of something. Maybe it's relationships; I've had my share of bad experiences. Or maybe it's intimacy, but I don't really think so. Or maybe I should just shut up and enjoy that fact that for the first time in what seems like forever, I actually trust someone.  
  
I look at him with a smile. "Nothing."  
  
His cool blue eyes search me, then he cracks a half smile, to anyone else it would be a smirk, but for me it's smile full of meaning and delight. He kisses me again, he nips my bottom lip and all logical thinking leaves me as I part my lips, giving the access he wants.  
  
When he finally pulls back, he rests his forehead against mine. "Stacy," He breathes my name like a prayer, "I love you." My heart fills at his words, he's said them before but this time is different.  
  
"I love you too," Because this time, I'm going to say them back. He smiles like he owns the world and kisses me, this time slow and loving, full of promise. I squeal as he picks me up and spins me.   
  
He set me down still grinning like a little boy on Christmas morning. He really is sometimes, like a little boy; innocent and naive, much more than he's willing to admit, and he really looks the part when he smiles like that. He's says the same thing about me, considering what we both do for a living, it's kinda ironic. The thought makes me laugh, maybe we do belong together. "You keep kissing me." I giggle at him.  
  
"I like kissing you, you're fun to kiss." He takes my hand in his and presses a kiss in the back of it. "How about we go get some ice cream?" I nod and we both walk out the door. I could over think this, but I won't, not right now. I'm taking this one step at a time. Ice cream with Randy Orton seems like a good place to start.  
  
A/N: Feeback, does a body good. :) 


	4. Granted

Title: Granted.  
  
Series: Sex, Love and Honesty,  
  
Author: Rachel  
  
Email:  
  
Category: WWE  
  
Disclaimer: Everyone belongs to the WWE and themselves  
  
Distribution: Ask please  
  
Rating: PG13 (parts will vary)  
  
Spoilers: Set in October/November 2003  
  
Notes: Fourth part in a diva series  
  
Notes 2: Each part will be about a different Diva from their POV, as such, each installment will be posted to the appropriate lists.  
  
Summary: A diva thinks about her unrequited love.  
  
Feedback: Is loved and much appreciated :)  
  
It's not his fault, I know it seems like it is. I can hear the girls in the locker room telling me that I shouldn't let myself be used like I am; I suppose that's why none of them know about this. But I'm not being taken advantage of, I agreed to this. Really, it's my fault for not being able to handle it.  
  
It's my fault for falling in love with him.  
  
It wasn't supposed to happen this way, but that doesn't change what is. It started as one night, one night in his arms. He was a friend, a good friend who'd had his heart broken, he wanted comfort and I saw no problem in giving it to him. Well, I saw no problem back then anyway.  
  
He was always a sweetheart, the kind of guy who wanted nice girls but couldn't seem to get them. I'd like to say that's changed, that since this whole thing started he's morphed into an absolute asshole, but I can't. He's still as nice and sweet as the day I met him, maybe even more so. He's never told a soul about what goes on between us, completely respects me and my privacy. The real issue is he's a man, not much I can do about that.  
  
Well, not really.  
  
Things aren't complicated for us, or at least not for him, but I wouldn't call our relationship causal. He's so relaxed around me when we're in front of other people, no awkward moments, no uncomfortable touches, nothing. Something that strangely contradicts the lover I know he can be. When we're alone, everything falls away and he becomes the most passionate man I've ever met, every look, touch, kiss and caress done with a purpose to evoke an emotion or feeling. I could die from the smoky look he gets in his eyes, I've never had anyone look at me the way he does. When we finish, he stays or sometimes he goes, but either way by morning we're back to being friends again, companions, buddies.  
  
We will always be friends, problem is, I want something more.  
  
It was just supposed to be sex that was the agreement. It wasn't supposed to interfere with our lives, and it doesn't. I wasn't supposed to fall in love, but I did. That's my hangup it seems. I was doing so well for so long. Our meeting went from weekly to nightly, he studied my body; painting kisses like an artist to a canvas. No one knows me that way better than him, everything from the birthmark on the inside of my right thigh, to the scar on my elbow from falling down when I was twelve, to where they made the incision when I had ankle surgery a year ago. He could draw you a map.  
  
It occurred to me one day that he doesn't just like sex; he likes women. He enjoys being with them, feeling their every curve to find where it goes. Tasting each inch of skin to find out how flavors vary on different parts of her body, my body. I've heard men like this, men who love women, make the best lovers. Whoever the hell said it wasn't lying.  
  
It's because of all this that I love him, because he's explored me beyond what any other man has done. Because I feel like I could drown just by looking in his lust filled eyes. Because he has shown me what a lover truly is. Because of the way he smiles and the way he laughs. Because of the way he fidgets with his choker when he's thinking or the way his hair is mussed in the morning. Because of his obsession with hockey, and how his fingers always find their way into my hair whenever we're together. For every single one of these things, plus million more; he's my friend, my lover and I love him.  
  
If only it were that simple.  
  
I look up at the sound of the door; the object of my affection has walked into the room. He's wearing jeans that make his butt look way too good and tank top that shows off his muscled arms and the tattoo on his shoulder. He takes his sunglasses off when he enters the room, giving me a glimpse of the smiling blue eyes underneath.  
  
"Hey Darlin'." he says. He's always called me that, but still, it makes me wanna melt into a puddle when he does that. Kill me.  
  
"Hey," I sound normal, as I always do.  
  
"We still on for tonight?" he asks, dropping his bag and bending over the get something out of it. His jeans tighten against his ass and I almost forget the question.  
  
"Yeah," I manage, "unless you have something else to do."  
  
He looks up at me with a chuckle, "Nope Darlin', just you and me." He smiles teasingly, and if I wasn't so used to it I'd likely be blushing right now. "I got asked out today."  
  
I arch an eyebrow at him, "Not surprising, you're a very attractive man," I tell him, as if he needs reminding. And still he has the decency to blush. "So what did you say?" I should probably be freaked out by this but I already know the answer.  
  
"Nah, I'm just not ready yet." he says it every time or some version of it. He's not ready for a relationship, with anyone. I can't say I blame him either; he got burned the last time, found his ex cheating on him. I just wonder when the time comes around will he pick me or someone else?  
  
"Trish, are you okay?" I look back at him with a bright smile.  
  
"I'm fine." I tell him, it's only a half truth, "I have to go get ready for my match, I'll see you later."  
  
He waves as I walk out the door. I heave a sigh once I'm on the other side. I know I could walk up to him and ask for an out to this agreement and he'd give it to me, but I won't do that. I love him too much to give up what part of him I've got. So until Christian comes around I'll live the half life, I'll be the lover and the friend without being the girlfriend, I can do. If only to live for those few moment when I'm the only one he sees, and I can pretend he loves me too.  
  
A/N: Well, that's was nice and angsty, wasn't it? 


End file.
